


the way you look tonight

by enbycupcake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Dom!Anakin, Dom!Obi-Wan, Illustrated, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Trans Anakin, Trans Character, Trans Obi-Wan, Trans Padmé, sub!Padmé
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:36:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbycupcake/pseuds/enbycupcake
Summary: Tonight is Padmé's night to be taken care of; tonight, she submits, and her boys make her beautiful.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was blessed by a lovely anon on tumblr to do a drawing of Padmé being spoiled by her boys, and I absolutely am still in love with the idea, so I also wrote a fic in addition to doing the drawing.
> 
>  The drawing is included in the fic, and to see it on tumblr it's [here.](http://petbuckie.tumblr.com/post/158541370017/pretty-padm%C3%A9-got-dolled-up-by-anakin-and-now)

Anakin’s fingers slide through her hair, extra gentle. All of the night’s tangles are long gone by now, but still he plays with her hair. It feels nice. The soft tension of curls straightening and bouncing back, the quiet squish of the displaced air around her ears. 

Padmé sighs. She’s so close to boneless – on the edge of the precipice. But Anakin hasn’t taken her there yet. 

Opening her eyes to peek, she sees Anakin watching her in awe. It’s rare that she submits; usually, when they can steal away some time, she’s the one taking care of him. Smiling softly, Padmé catches her husband’s eye in the mirror. He’s such a good boy, doing this for her.

The hand in her hair scratches her scalp. “Close your eyes, Padmé. You’re not in charge today.”

“Yes, Ani.”

Another curl pulls down and springs back as she obeys. Padmé inhales, shakes herself to get back into the correct mood. She’s in this seat to be taken care of, not to be worshipped. Anakin has her. 

Her ear tickles.

Slowly, Anakin makes his way yet again through her whole head of hair. Stretch and bounce. Stretch and bounce. His hand slides through slower and slower, his fingers rarely catching. Her curls not currently being played with are soft around her; the strands brush low on her torso, the sensation strange. She can’t remember the last time her hair’s been so finger teased loose. 

A gasp escapes her as Anakin lets his fingers touch the skin on her neck. It feels like gasping down water after several long debates on the senate floor. Her focus completely tunnels into it, his barely there heat sinking into her skin, the rest of the background sensations sliding away.

Anakin’s hand pulls away from her neck, and she mourns the loss. 

“You’re so beautiful, Padmé.”

Padmé preens at the praise, raising her head. The sound of Anakin’s brief laughter makes her heart swell. She knows what smile follows after it, and her own lips curl up to match him. A kiss is pressed to her hair.

The cool durasteel of Anakin’s right hand cradles her chin and turns her head. His fingertips ghost up to press against her lips, to climb up her nose, to curve along her brow. Finding rest on her cheek, Anakin’s hand curls. Padmé leans into it. 

“I think I’m going to do your eyes.” 

Padmé hums. She likes the sound of that; her eyes are her best feature. The drag of durasteel along her cheek warms her. Anakin’s fingers slide away, and she feels him moving around her. Sounds of her vanity drawer being opened, the shuffle of items being taken out and misplaced, Anakin finding what he wants soothe her ears. 

Intaking a breath, Padmé tilts her head back upright; she’d let it rest just where Anakin had left it. But she wants to be ready for him. She wants to be pretty.

The cap of something clinks, and Padmé bites her lip in anticipation. Anakin’s left hand comes to her face. These fingers are slightly calloused, scratching her skin as they settle. Padmé listens as Anakin’s grip urges her head upward. 

“Open your eyes, angel.” 

The sight of her husband before her makes her heart flutter. His eyes are bright, locking onto hers. Blonde hair is tucked behind an ear on his left, and on his right what little falls is loose. His lip pulls between his teeth as his hand comes up brandishing a tube of eyeliner. 

Padmé holds her eyes open. The soft bristles pull against her eyelids, and Anakin goes over his lines twice on each eye. The way his eyebrows furrow makes her want to laugh, but she holds it. She won’t mess him up. She won’t. Following the eyeliner, Anakin brings a mascara wand to her face. He tells her to “blink first, please,” before filling her eyelashes. Her eyes feel heavier with it, and Padmé blinks without having to be told this time when Anakin finishes. She’s rewarded with a swipe of Anakin’s thumb on her cheek. 

“I’m almost done. Just have to do your lips now.”

Padmé nods against her husband’s hand. She pouts her lips out for him, eyes following him. He drops her mascara on the vanity, his hand dancing above two shades of red before picking the softer one – Obi-Wan’s favorite. Padmé gasps in excitement. 

Anakin’s laughter sings in her ears. “He’s going to want to eat you, Padmé.”

The press of the lipstick against her is barely there, Anakin carefully applying it to just stain her lips. It’s over and done in an instant. Padmé lowers her head as the hand on her cheek slides away from her, her husband’s eyes keen on her. Anakin’s loving admiration of her adorned face makes her want. His eyes sweep over her features again, her tousled hair, her eyes, her painted lips. Anakin ends the appraisal locking gazes with her, his love written plainly as day for her to read. 

Padmé surges in to kiss him.

His lips are soft against hers, his face smooth under her fingers. Padmé sighs as she’s pulled away. Her husband looks just as disappointed as she feels, his hand gently petting her back.

“We have to wait until I bring you out for Obi-Wan.”

Pouting, she nods. She shouldn’t have, she knows that, but her husband just makes her feel so adored. As if reading her mind, Anakin presses his forehead to hers. 

“He’ll look at you just like I am, angel. You know he will.” He smiles at her. “Tell me.”

“Obi-Wan’ll look at me just like you are. I just have to wait.”

Anakin beams. “Good girl.”

Laughing, Padmé rubs her nose against his. His eyes crinkle, and he returns her gesture. Then she’s being whisked up in his arms, hair bouncing with the force of the motion. Anakin pulls her against his chest for the few feet it takes to bring her to the closet from the vanity. She’s gently placed onto the ground, Anakin taking care to balance her before reaching into the closet. Padmé shifts her weight as she watches him pull down her collar box. 

The box is a baby pink, and it looks delicate in Anakin’s grip. Padmé sucks in a breath; she can’t wait to feel the pressure on her neck, for the feelings of being endlessly desired and selflessly loved to intensify. To belong, tonight.

She dips her head, hair falling away from her neck, exposing herself. Anakin doesn’t leave her waiting; immediately, the sensation of ribbon hitting her throat is there, the collar wrapping around her as Anakin pulls the ends through the D rings in the back, tying them, finishing dolling her up. Padmé melts as the ends fall from his hands to her back, the sensations of the collar washing over her.

A request to lift her head brings her back into focus. Her leash is waiting for her, and Anakin’s hands are quick in clipping it to her collar. Padmé takes in a breath at the sight of it slightly taunt in her husband’s grasp. She pulls back to feel him reign her in. 

His smile is warm, possessive. “You’re so beautiful like this, Padmé. You’re truly my angel.” 

Padmé sighs contently at his words, cheesy as they are. It doesn’t matter when she’s like this, when he’s made himself for her, in control and loving. The next tug of her collar is barely there, Anakin bringing her in to press a kiss to her hair. His eyes are dark when she looks up at him. 

“How about I take you to Obi-Wan now?”

Vigorously nodding, Padmé steps away from her husband, eager. “Yes, please, Ani.”

Laughing, Anakin wraps her leash around his hand again for a more secure grip. Padmé waits for him to step in front of her, and she follows, watching the way his back muscles move under his bra and above his skirt. The weight of her collar around her throat keeps her from urging Anakin faster; she wants to feel Obi-Wan’s eyes on her. She wants to know if he likes what Anakin did to her, if he’ll look at her softly or if his eyes will turn dark, if he’ll keep her dolled up or if he’ll unwrap her, if Anakin’ll play with her as he watches. 

She wants. 

Obi-Wan’s sitting on one of her backless chairs, one of her more decorative pieces. He’s naked, and Padmé sucks in a breath. He’s a gorgeous picture, confident in her space and waiting. His face is gentle, his usual touch of haughtiness tucked away for her tonight. Her fingers itch to grab onto him, to have him put his hands on her. 

Anakin stops before him, and Padmé follows by his side. Obi-Wan nods first to Anakin before trailing his gaze to her. His eyes start at her feet encased in stockings, follow her legs up to her exposed strapless, her decorative garter, to her pretty blue bra, to her collar. Her face is where he rests, a small smile pulling on his lips. Padmé’s toes curl in pleasure at the approval he gives her, at the way his eyes go soft upon gazing at her. 

“You look darling, Padmé.”

Warmth darts through her. “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

“It’s my pleasure, I assure you, dear one. Anakin, turn her around.”

Anakin flashes a winning smile at her before pressing a hand to her stomach, the cool durasteel of his fingers pressing in, urging her to turn. Listening, Padmé does, bringing her arms up to rest against herself, hands just under her collar. She just feels so pretty, and she loves twirling like this. The happy laughter it brings is an added bonus. 

Obi-Wan’s hands comes up under her hair, his fingers running along her shoulders. Padmé tilts her head down and just lets herself soak up the attention. The fingers slide all over her back, over and under her lingerie and along her skin. It feels magical, and Padmé knows she’s making pleased little noises. 

Obi-Wan lingers for what could be hours, Padmé couldn’t know, before his fingers of one hand latch onto her bra straps to pull them untied, to unwrap her, the other hand making it back into her hair. Her bra only stays up because of her arms pressed against her. Slowly, she lowers them so Obi-Wan can have want he wants.

Anakin presses kisses to her face as her bra falls to the floor. His hand comes up from her stomach to cup her chin, and he captures her lips. Padmé quickly grabs onto him. The hand in her hair pulls, and Padmé groans into her husband’s mouth. 

She’s starry eyed when Anakin pulls away from her, his lips pretty pink and eyes mischievous. Happily, she lets him guide her down onto Obi-Wan’s lap, his thighs soft below her legs and his shoulders sturdy under her hands. Obi-Wan looks adoringly at her, and she smiles brightly at him before pressing a kiss to his lips. His hands find a spot on her waist, half on her skin and half on her garter. Padmé’s fingers tighten in response, the skin underneath pulling. 

She hears Anakin join Obi-Wan on the chair, the creak of the synth-leather loud in the silence of the room. It draws Obi-Wan away from her to cast a look at Anakin. The loss of his lips against hers is quickly forgotten as Anakin takes over, leaning forward while also pulling her towards him by her leash. Padmé sighs against him, enjoying the soft pressure on her neck that Anakin keeps constant, a counterpoint to the fingers on her hips, Obi-Wan digging them in harder. 

The two of them take her on the chair, warmth burning her as they do they damnedest to leave her truly boneless.


End file.
